The Memory of Us: A Novel (15 page)

She continued to eye me as though I’d been sent by the devil himself to tempt Kyle from his vocation. “Well, come in, there’s no use, you standing outside like this. Father Sullivan is in the dining room, but I’m sure that he’ll want to talk to you. Have a seat over there, and I’ll call for him.” As she limped out of the room, I was reminded of Quasimodo and amused myself by imagining her crying, “Sanctuary!” I knew that it was wrong, but it helped leaven my discomfort in these surroundings.

We sat on the sofa in the parlor where Kyle looked as if he was at home within its creamy yellow walls, and it occurred to me that he must have spent a lot of time here. But his familiarity appeared to provide little comfort tonight. He put his elbows on his knees and folded his hands together. Not wanting him to catch me studying him, I looked around at the bookshelves that lined the walls and didn’t recognize any of the titles. Several were in Latin.

Minutes later Father Sullivan came into the parlor, hurriedly dabbing at the corner of his mouth with the napkin in his hand. He was shorter than Kyle, with the beginnings of a paunch and a bald spot. Unlike his housekeeper, the presence of a young lady with Kyle appeared to neither scandalize nor infuriate him. In fact, I almost thought I saw a little amusement in his expression, which I did not understand. I followed Kyle’s lead and stood up when the priest entered the room. He motioned that it was unnecessary and that we should sit, but I rather liked standing in the presence of this man. I was drawn immediately to his kindness, and I thought that this was the kind of priest that Kyle would be.

We explained the seriousness of Mr. McCarthy’s condition, and Kyle said that it was time for him to be anointed. I gathered from their conversation a couple of things. First,
anointing
and
extreme unction
were interchangeable terms. (I liked
anointing
better. Far less severe.) And second, this was reserved for those who were very close to death.

Father Sullivan grabbed his long black coat, excused himself to retrieve his kit of oils, and followed us out the door. We squeezed into the cab of Kyle’s truck. It was an odd feeling to sit between the two of them. Shoulder to shoulder with Kyle, my senses were on alert to his every movement and my body felt as if it were on fire where we touched; I had to press my hands together to keep them from involuntarily reaching out to him. On one side, then, an urgent reminder of what Kyle
could never
be. And on the other, an equally stark reminder of what Kyle was
destined
to become: a gentle and kind priest. I was thankful that the ride was brief, because jostling between the two was suffocating for me.

We walked down the now all-too-familiar, dark ground-floor hallway and up the three narrow flights of stairs. Mr. McCarthy could no longer sit up in his bed, but it was obvious that he was happy to see all three of us. Father Sullivan asked us to leave the room, and he closed the door behind him. Kyle explained that he was hearing his father’s confession. I knew little about that and of the anointing in general, and Kyle patiently explained it all to me. This was considered one of their sacraments, and it was intended to help the dying person get his spiritual house in order to prepare for whatever was coming next. I found comfort in what he was describing, and I thought that it must be nice to have someone praying for you in your last days.

After the confession, Father Sullivan came for us. Although Kyle offered me a chair, I stood with my back against the wall, observing the rest of the ritual. Father Sullivan didn’t look our way, and Mr. McCarthy had his eyes closed, with the most faint smile on his lips. Kyle explained things to me whenever I looked confused, translating from the Latin when necessary.

As Father Sullivan blessed the old man’s eyes with oil, Kyle whispered the English translation to me. “Through this holy anointing, and through his most tender mercy, may the Lord pardon you what sins you have committed by sight.”

Father Sullivan followed with gesturing crosses over his ears, and Kyle continued. “Through this holy anointing, and through his most tender mercy, may the Lord pardon you what sins you have committed by hearing.”

The ritual continued with the nose, the lips, the hands, and the feet. Every avenue that might have caused offense in one’s lifetime. Kyle looked at the scene, entranced, and I looked at Kyle. He hadn’t shaved in days, and his shoulders curled in. My heart ached for his sadness.

Kyle stepped forward at the end and made the sign of the cross over himself. I gripped the footboard of the large iron bed and watched with fascination.

Kyle was quiet on the way back home, and I didn’t pester him with idle conversation. I nearly fell asleep. I was both bewildered and moved by what I had witnessed, and my body was exhausted by the toll that had been taken during the weeks of helping his father.

“Here you are,” he said as we drove up. The truck idled while he opened his door.

“Please don’t get out,” I said. “I can walk myself up, and you need to get back.”

He sighed, a commonplace sound in these past weeks. “You’re probably right.” He pulled his door closed again. “Thank you for everything. And for being there tonight.”

Silence lingered between us as our eyes met. I looked away first.

“Don’t mention it,” I said. “It was—well, different. I can’t say I understood it all, but it was kind of beautiful.”

“Now you see why the seminary takes eight years.”

“Yes. So much to remember.”

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

I wanted to say yes. With all my heart. But I couldn’t. “No, I’ve neglected much at home lately, and I should try to get up to Bootle later in the week. I’ve only seen my brother once since Christmas.”

“I shouldn’t have monopolized your time these past few weeks. I wasn’t even thinking. I’m sorry.”

“No—don’t be sorry. I was glad to be there.”

“We’re glad you were.” He paused. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“Really, don’t say that. He would have come around eventually.”

“Why don’t I come by in a couple of days and let you know how he’s doing?”

“I’d like that. Now, go get some sleep. Your eyes are bloodshot, and your father needs you.”

“You’re right. Good night.”

Our gaze lingered. If this had been a date, it would have been the moment where I’d be wondering if he would kiss me.

“Good night.” I broke the spell abruptly and slid off the seat. The door made a rusty thud as I closed it. “I love you,” I said into the cloud of exhaust left behind. I stayed until I could no longer see it.

I hoped that the next few days would fly by until I could see him again. I’d grown so accustomed to these daily visits.

But as it turned out, I saw Kyle much sooner than I expected.

Chapter Fifteen

I missed breakfast, but felt greatly renewed by the additional sleep. Mother peppered me with questions now that I had time to visit with her. They were suspiciously inquisitive more than conversational, but I think I finally convinced her that this time with Kyle’s father had been an exercise in nursing and nothing more. I could see that she thought I was spending too much time with the younger gardener, and she didn’t like it.

I caught a matinee with Lucille, whose company I had missed not only for the last few weeks, but ever since the days that we were inseparable. How distant was our childhood, where the dilemmas were no more difficult than deciding which dolls to invite to a tea party.

She let me pour my heart out about all that had occurred lately. There were so many emotions. I had really grown a soft spot for Mr. McCarthy, ill-tempered with the world but sweet to me. I had felt so alive being near Kyle for such an extended time, and the more I learned about him, the more I loved him. And so, the more I bemoaned what kept us apart.

I apologized to Lucille for being such a scattered mess, but she hugged me tight and listened as if every word I said made perfect sense.

Lucille’s Ben met us for supper. I was pleased to have a chance to get to know him better, and I instantly liked him. He was so solicitous of my best friend, and I was gratified that she was in good hands. Lucille seemed to feel a little guilty for being so happy in front of me, but I made sure that I wore my biggest smile so that she could see that I was, indeed, sharing her joy. It was nice that, for once, she was receiving all of the attention. She certainly deserved it.

The clouds were looking dark and heavy as I headed home, and just as I arrived, they burst open with rain. I played backgammon with Father for an hour while he smoked his pipe. He had picked up my enthusiasm for the game over Christmas, and we made bets on the outcome for silly stakes. If he won tonight, I would have to clean his pipe collection. If I won, I didn’t have to work at the warehouses for a week. Mother wasn’t one for games, and she rolled her eyes when we were getting competitive. She went back to reading a magazine that had arrived in the post that day.

I lost our little tournament, five to three, and was ready to lick my wounds with the company of a good book. I kissed Father good night and went upstairs to put on my coziest pajamas. After lighting a fire, I opened
The Misfortunes of Mr. Teal
and settled into my warm bed. I loved nights like this.

Hours later, nodding my head in drowsiness, I heard a plinking sound on my window. I ignored it, thinking it was hail. It would have been unusual but not impossible. I had twelve pages to finish in the book, so I widened my eyes and refocused my attention. But I heard the sound again.

I walked over to open the window and was shocked to see a figure down below. “Julianne!” It was Kyle, shouting as quietly as he could. He was soaking wet. “Julianne! I need to talk to you!”

I held my finger up to my lips and nodded. “I’ll be right down.”

I went to my closet to grab something to wear but changed my mind when I considered the absurdity of the whole thing. If Kyle was here so late at night and in the rain, there must be an emergency. Instead, I put on a heavy, plush robe and a pair of slippers. I grabbed a towel for him, thinking that he must be cold. Tiptoeing downstairs, I slipped out the back door and adjusted my eyes to the darkness so that I could see him.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing my hand. “Let’s get out of the rain.” We ran toward the gazebo in the distance.

When we arrived, he let go of my hand and I wrung the rain from my hair. I handed the towel to him. He patted himself down until only dampness was left.

He looked very serious and was about to say something. But when he had a chance to really look at me, the corners of his mouth turned up just a little. “You’re wearing your pajamas!”

“You pulled me out of my house in the middle of the night, in the pouring rain, and you’re talking about my pajamas? I thought you were in some kind of trouble, so I hurried down!”

“You’re right . . . my fault. I guess that you just surprised me.” He smiled a little wider, but I could sense sadness in his eyes. “It’s a nice surprise.”

I was suddenly aware that my pink terry cloth robe had loosened, and the rain had made the summer nightgown cling to my skin. I pulled the robe tight around me, embarrassed.

His voice was clenched when he spoke again. “No, there’s no trouble. But I did want to let you know right away . . .”

“Yes?”

He looked down and ran his fingers through his hair. “My father. He died this evening.”

Without thinking, I threw my arms around him. Against his chest, I felt him breathe a heavy sigh that sounded like the release of months of strain. I heard the quickened beat of his heart. He put his arms around me, too, and we held each other there, swaying slightly, comforting one another in our shared sadness. I had really become close to his father during this ordeal, and I felt the loss as well. At the same time, enveloped by the one I loved, I welcomed the physical closeness to him that I had craved for a year.

I started to sob from all of it, and he held me tighter.

I don’t know how long we stood there, sheltered from the rain, leaning on each other in the dark.

Pulling me closer, if that was even possible, Kyle laid his head down on my shoulder, and I could hear him choking back a few of his own tears as he breathed. My hand moved to the back of his head as I stroked his hair slowly. I heard him shudder just a little, and before I knew it, I felt his lips press gently against my neck.

A chill ran through my body, and I froze in place, unsure of what to do. In another circumstance, I might have thought that it was a kiss. But this was not an ordinary situation by any means, and I didn’t want to let my feelings take over the moment. It was excruciating to stand there, unresponsive.

I felt his lips on me again, a little more insistently, moving gradually up from my neck to my cheek. There was no mistaking what he was doing now, and I didn’t want him to stop. I continued to stand still, not even breathing. He picked his head up and looked at me. While I could control my body, I couldn’t control my expression, and I knew he could see the complete longing that I had for him. He moved his hands to my face, cradling it, and then slowly placed his lips on mine.

Gently, gently, he kissed me, several times, each time with a little more fervor. When I responded, suppressing nothing now, he gasped sharply and kissed me harder. We continued like that, two people desperately needing each other, a year of hesitation washed away in the rain.

He pulled back, looking at me again and brushing my cheek with his hand.

“Julianne,” he whispered. And with that one word, he said a thousand.

He put his arms around me, holding me close to him, and I could feel the wild beating of his heart. It matched my own. We stood there again, laughing and crying all at once.

Taking my hand, he led me to the bench in the gazebo. He never released it but only held it tighter.

He whispered again, holding his head down. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

I couldn’t get any words out and just looked at him. If he were to look up, I knew that my face would say it all.

“I’ve been in love with you since I first saw you,” he said. “I suppose that it was only a matter of time before I gave up trying to deny it.”

All I wanted was for him to kiss me again, but a part of me feared that this unexpected turn of events was the fault of the news he had come to share about his father. The morning might bring him regret. Which would mean heartache once again.

“Kyle,” I said, putting both of my hands in his but pulling away from him. I couldn’t believe what I was about to say. “What are you doing? You’re losing everything you worked for. This isn’t what you came here for tonight.”

“No, it’s not. Really, I surprised myself as much as I must have surprised you. But I’m not sorry. I’m not.
Please
trust me on this. You are all that I’ve wanted for a long time.”

“But what about—”

“No—shh, hush.” He pulled me back to him. “I realized in these last few months that I couldn’t be a good priest if I knew my calling was elsewhere.”

“Kyle—I don’t know what to say.” My mind was reeling.

“I think that I’ve been rejecting the notion for all this time because I didn’t believe that you could ever feel the same way for me.”

My eyes widened. “How can you say that?”

“Look at you. You’ve been surrounded by friends and admirers for so long, how could I expect you to see me through all that?”

“You are mad, you know that? I knew as soon as I saw you helping my brother that day there could be no one else.”

He leaned in and kissed each of my eyelids tenderly. Then, pressing his forehead against mine, he twirled a strand of my hair in his finger, and we reveled in the closeness.

Oh, how alert my senses were! Without remorse, I could see him, touch him, hear him, breathe in his scent, taste the sweetness of his kiss. I savored the exhilaration of the moment.

I realized then that I had not asked him anything about his father, and that is what he had come for in the first place. I told him so.

He smiled, a look of complete contentment on his face. He continued to stroke my hair as if it were a precious possession. “You know, he is the one that brought us together. Not intentionally, that’s not what I mean. But watching you care for him, seeing your devotion to helping him, I knew for certain that this is where I was meant to be all along. He was ready to go, and you helped make that happen. He is at peace, and I am too, because of you.”

Kyle kissed the tip of my nose and then moved down to brush my lips again.

“I’ve tried . . . so hard . . .” I whispered, in between breaths.

“What is that, darling?” He was distracted by what he was doing, but I turned his face to look me in the eye so that he could really hear what I was saying.

“I tried so hard not to interrupt your plans and your ambitions. I even avoided you at times just so it wouldn’t be difficult.”

“You are an angel for that. But you have to realize that
you
are my dream. In fact, I even talked to Father Sullivan about you.”

I stiffened at this and pushed him away. “You
did
?” I could only imagine what the kind priest could possibly think of me now. “How could you do that? He must hate me.”

Kyle laughed and pulled me back to him. “Of course he doesn’t hate you. Father Sullivan has been my confessor ever since I was a child. He knows me better than anyone. This isn’t news to him. In fact, I think he saw it coming even before I did.”

“But surely he must want you to be a priest, like him.”

“Father Sullivan wants me to be whatever I am led to be. And I know that is with you.”

“And just when did you know that for sure?”

He grinned. “About ten minutes ago, when you threw yourself at me.”

“Kyle, please, I was trying to
comfort
you!”

“Oh, is that what you were doing? My fault, then—I take it all back.”

“Don’t you dare!” I pulled him toward me and kissed him hard, leaving no doubt in his mind that I much preferred this course for us.

When I was confident that I left not a shred of doubt in him, I asked, “Where do we go from here?”

“Well, that is for another day. Because if your parents find you out here with me, there won’t
be
another day.”

I didn’t want him to leave and have this enchantment end. I didn’t want to sleep for fear I’d awake and find that I had been dreaming. But the brisk air biting my skin told me that this was real and that Kyle was right.

“Besides, I have to get back,” he said. “The undertaker is coming first thing in the morning, and that’s only a few hours away. I may not be able to come see you tomorrow, but please know that I will be thinking of nothing else.”

“Can’t I help with the arrangements?”

“There isn’t much to do, honestly. My father was a private man and didn’t know very many people. But there will be a burial shortly, and it would mean a lot to me if you were there. I know that he would have liked that.”

“Of course I will.”

He took my hand again and led me back to the house, staying in the shadows away from the moonlight. There was no sense in risking anyone seeing us.

Approaching the protection of the back porch, he put his arm around my waist and drew me to him. After kissing me deeply, he said, “Julianne . . . my love,” and then ran off into the darkness.

It occurred to me as I dried myself off that it had been raining the last time Kyle and I had a momentous conversation, too. Maybe God was trying to warn me off. But I didn’t want to listen.